


The Value of Persistence

by eerian_sadow



Series: Melodies of Life [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Community: prowlxjazz, Friendship, Gen, mild violence, prowlxjazz Anniversary Challenge 2013, unnamed character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl meets Jazz.  The world is never the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Value of Persistence

Title: The Value of Persistence  
Universe: G1, Melodies of Life 'verse  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Optimus Prime, assorted other Autobots   
Prompt: Starlight, moonlight, sunlight  
Content Advisory: mentions of violence (non-graphic), mentions of death (non-graphic)  
Notes: I saw the prompt. I read the prompt. I flipped the prompt sideways, shook it vigorously and then tossed it in the air and it became a metaphor. Um... sorry? Seriously, though, enjoy this story as it (I hope) follows a friendship in three stages.

PS: this isn't beta read, so if you see any errors I missed, please point them out. My tablet's spell check is as useful as a rubber duck in an empty bath tub.

 

Part 1: Starlight

"You will discover," Prowl said, looking at the recruits gathered around the room, "That this is the easiest part of the assessment. Each of you will step forward and give your name and city of origin."

"Why?" A green and brown mech asked. "We already filled that out in the application forms."

Prowl opened his mouth to respond, but another recruit--the black and white mech who had come in with the medical team--answered first. "Because I don't have a copy of your forms, and I don't know you from Seninel Prime. Introductions aren't just for the nice officer's benefit; we have to know our teammates. Or potential teammates."

"Indeed." The Autobot officer gestured the black and white mech forward. "Perhaps you should go first."

"Sure thing." Unlike other recruits who had balked or protested being singled out, this mech stepped forward with an easy smile on his visored face. "My name's Jazz, originally from Iacon."

"Thank you." Prowl made a note to keep an eye on Jazz. Anyone that outspoken in a group of starangers could be the glue that held a team together or the biggest morale problem in the ranks--and both situations would need guidance. He made the same note for the green and brown mech who had questioned him as he turned to look at him. The Praxian had a feeling that mech would be Jazz's opposite number in this training group. "And you?"

"Tremor, from Perihex." The green and brown mech frowned at the former enforcer.

"I'm Breaklight!" A black racer announced from the back of the group, dispelling some of the tension gathering in the room. "I was sparked and raised on the race tracks in Ibex."

Prowl nodded, and the other new recruits began piping up. After each mech in the room had introduced himself, Jazz spoke again.

"What about you, sir? You didn't tell us where you're from."

The Praxian flicked his doorwings in surprise. Most recruits barely remembered his name, to say nothing of including him in their groups. Most of them simply saw him as an obstruction, slowing them down before they began their "real" work as Autobots.

"Prowl," he replied. "From the Central District of Praxus."

"Nice." Jazz grinned. "They make some good music in Praxus."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Whenever he could, Prowl took his energon in the tiny office he had been assigned when Sentinel Prime placed him in charge of troop assessments. The troops didn't enjoy his presence--more than once he had been called a "killjoy" or worse when he insisted upon adherance to regulations--and he preferred the quiet when he could get it. Some days, though, appearing in the commissary was inescapable.

Like today, when Optimus Prime was going to address the newest members of the Autobot army. All the officers responsible for new recruit training were required to be present, and most of them looked far more unhappy to be there than Prowl. The Praxian sat apart from them, as far away as he could without sitting with the new recruits, rather than be infected with their dissatisfaction at doing their duty.

"So I hear," the former enforcer was startled out of his thoughts by the arrival of a second black and white mech, "That the big boss wants to give us all a pep talk."

"Pep talk?" Prowl had heard Sentinel's speeches many things, but never that.

Jazz gave him a smile and sat down. "Sure, a motivational or inspirational speech. You should hear how the younger bots are all buzzing about it."

"Why should they be... buzzing?"

"Mech, the real question is why _shouldn't_ they be?" The visored mech sipped at his ration. "Most of us are from backgrounds so humble that we never even saw the senators we voted for, except on the vids. It's exciting for them to be addressed by the Prime Himself."

"But not for you?" Prowl sipped at his own ration, curious.

"Not especially. I met Resolute once, when I was young. He wasn't anything special." The Iaconian mech shrugged. "A Prime's just another bot."

"A politically important bot, however."

"Not here for the politics."

That caught Prowl's interest. Most recruits joined because of religious devotion to the Prime or because they were attempting to cultivate future political favor. "Then why are you here?"

"Because the Decepticons took everything from me, even my frame. Ratchet and the others saved me." Jazz's hand tightned around his ration cube for a moment. "Easy choice, right? One side kills you, the other side heals you. What about you?"

"I re-enlisted after Resolute lost the Matrix." The older mech hesitated, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal to this virtual stranger. Jazz had shared a fraction of his own background, however, and it would be unfair to that surprising amount of trust not to do the same. "There was very little left for me in Praxus after the assassination attempt."

The younger mech gave him a look, not of pity but of sympathy. "And now you're stuck sparking sitting for new recruits who ask too many questions and poke their noses where they shouldn't."

"No." Prowl decided to take Jazz's apology for what it was. "You are the first to have even cared. The others would rather pretend I am not here at all."

"Some cohesive military unit. No wonder we're losing the war." The visored mech scoffed. "Well, I'm not pretending. I see you."

The former enforcer was strangely touched by the recruit's words. "Thank you."

Their conversation was prevented from going any further, as the Prime entered the room. A surprised hush fell over the gathered mechs, who had been laughing and chattering only moments before. The red and blue mech surveyed the room for a long moment, then nodded to the assembled recruits and officers.

“As you were,” Optimus told them. “We will address the issue of training placement after we’ve all finished our fuel.”

Every mech in the room watched as the young Prime strode confidently away from the heavily armored mechs serving as his bodyguards and walked to the public ration dispenser. The bodyguards traded nervous glances before following. Optimus then made his way to the table the officers had claimed, and spoke with them briefly.

Prowl was shocked when the Prime moved on from the officer’s table and toward the one he was sharing with Jazz. “Commander Prowl, may I join you and your friend?”

“I don’t mind,” Jazz replied with a shrug.

The Praxian nodded. Their conversation had been heading into areas he wasn’t comfortable discussing in public anyway. “Please sit, sir.”

“Thank you.” The red and blue mech settled into the chair next to Prowl. "And please, just Optimus. This is a casual setting."

For a moment, as Jazz smiled and said, "All right, Optimus. I'm Jazz, by the way", Prowl felt like he was back in his earliest days of working in enforcer command. Optimus exuded the same sort of easy camraderie as the first commisoner he had worked under, and for the first time since his re-enlistment the Praxian felt at ease with a superior officer.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Prowl, hey!"

The Praxian stopped and turned at the sound of Jazz's voice. "Jazz. How are you faring with your training under Highbrow?"

"Really well, actually." The Iaconian mech gave him a brilliant smile. "Thanks for that, by the way. Don't know how you knew I'd fit, but it's perfect."

"It was a simple matter of applying logic and reasoning to the responses I observed during the assessments." Prowl gave him a small smile in return, spark warmed by the younger mech's thanks. "But I am glad that I was correct in my deduction of your talents."

"Is that a smile?" Jazz's grin grew and the Praxian looked away, embarrassed. "It is! No worries, my mech. Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you." Prowl gave him a wry look.

"Anytime. That's not what I wanted to tell you, though." The visored mech's expression turned slightly more serious. "I really wanted to let you know something that's going around the gossip chain before you got blindsided by it."

He was hardly one to put stock in gossip and rumors, but the Praxian had seen the younger mech's ability to find usable data among the idle chatter and knew he could trust his judgment. "All right."

"My source on the command deck says that Optimus is planning some _serious_ officer shake-ups. Moving mechs that Sentinel placed for political reasons into areas more suited to them or removing officers that are ineffective completely." Jazz gave him a moment to process that information before continuing. "There's a pretty sizable list, I'm told, and you're on it. My source says it's good news, though."

"Are you saying that I'm being transferred soon?" Prowl had been stuck in his role as assessment coordinator for so long that the news was almost difficult to process.

"Yes! And to some place where your talents will be a whole lot more useful than basic training." Jazz's delighted grin returned. "You might want to start packing, but you didn't hear that from me."

After a moment, when Jazz's news had fully processed, Prowl returned the younger mech's smile. He had always known that his position had been a way for Sentinel Prime to put him out of sight and not have to deal with him, rather than risk a political firestorm by placing a controversial mech in any of the positions he actually qualified for. Now, it looked like Optimus might be taking that risk instead of bowing to conventional wisdom.

Finally, he would be more than a disgraced enforcer who was best left forgotten. "Thank you, Jazz." 

"Prowl, my mech, you are very welcome. If you need help moving your office, just let me know. I'll have Breaklight and be up here before you've closed the comm line." The visored mech clapped him on the shoulder. "Couldn't have asked for this to happen to a better mech."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When Optimus began transferring officers to distant outposts, Prowl packed up his belongings. When he discharged others--over half the tactical department was sent to prison for treason--the former enforcer was prepared for wherever his leader would place him.

He had come to trust Optimus' judgment as implictly as he trusted Smokescreen's.

True to his word, Jazz and Breaklight came and picked up his boxes as soon as Prowl's new assignment posted. Prowl settled in as chief tactician as comfortably as if he had never left the department after his voluntary tours of duty.

"Told you," Jazz said with another of those easy smiles that never seemed to run out. "Much better placement."

"So you did." Prowl checked the tiny crystals of his desk garden, making sure each was properly settled in its nutrient tray. "I am grateful for the warning. I would have worried irrationally when mechs began transferring otherwise."

"Anybot would be a fool not to want you on his team," the visored mech replied. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Part 2: Moonlight

"Decepticon forces are gathering for a massive assault." Prowl indicated several glowing points on the tactical holomap. "The garrisons at Kaon, Ibex and the Crystal City ruins are the largest staging points, but there are also troop movements to Vos and Darkmount."

"Do we know where he will strike?" Optimus asked, staring at the map.

"No, sir. There could be one target or five, but without more information I cannot say for sure." The tactician shook his head. "Iacon itself could be his main target, but the cities of Gygax, Praxus and Tyger Pax are equally vulnerable. The Military Academy and the Crystal Towers are also not outside probability."

"If you were gathering troops at these locations, where would you attack?" The Prime asked gravely.

Surprised by the question, Prowl glanced at the other officers before answering. Only Ironhide looked unsurprised that their young leader had asked. Prowl's oldest friend nodded to him, giving him a measure of reasurrance as he formulated his answer.

"I would remove my enemy's financial backing by striking the Crystal Towers and their ability to train new recruits by striking the military academy."

"Megatron's tacticians are likely thinking to cripple us the same way. We will prepare for those assaults until we have intelligence that indicates another course of action." Optimus nodded and turned to Highbrow. "Send the best of your agents into the Decepticon strongholds to get us solid information. We must know Megatron's plans. We cannot continue to fight this war on the defensive."

"The best are either dead or in the medical facility," Highbrow replied. "Tactics isn't lacking information because Intellegence hasn't been trying. All we have available are barely trained rookies or bots with no field experience."

"I'll go." Every head in the room turned to look at Jazz, who had been observing silently from the door as part of his training.

"Absolutely not!" Highbrow slammed a fist on the holotable for emphasis. "Command track or not, you aren't even in your second phase of training. Your inexperience will do nothing but get you killed."

Jazz shrugged. "Con's have already tried to kill me once. Don't think it'll work better now than it did then."

"You're not close quarters combat trained, mech," Ironhide added.

"That only matters if they want to kill me instead of capturing me. But I think we all know that the Decepticons would rather interrogate an Autobot infiltrator than just kill him." The visored mech stepped closer to the table. "And I haven't been here long enough to tell them anything."

"Jazz, there is no logical reason for you to go. There are others in your division who are as capable." Prowl frowned at his friend.

"Yeah, but I'm the only one here who can volunteer." The visored mech gave him a humorless smile in return. "I know exactly what intel you need, just from standing here and listening. I know Darkmount's the place to get it, because Megatron is favoring it above his other bases right now. And I know a short route from here to there, using the public transit service tunnels. I can get in, get the data and get back before you'd even have anyone else's orders drawn up."

"Jazz's reasoning is sound." Optimus' calm voice ended the command staff's dispeased murmuring. "In good concinience, I cannot order him to go. However, we need the information he has volunteered to retrieve too badly for me to order him to stay."

"I refuse to allow it!" Highbrow fumed. "I refuse to let one of my recruits go off to die like some kind of sacrificial offering!"

Jazz ignored his immediate superior, fixing his gaze on Optimus and Prowl instead. "Well, mechs?"

"The final decision is not yours to make, Highbrow." The Prime fixed the head of Intellegence with a firm stare. "You would have us do nothing and gamble with Megatron's plans rather than risk the life of a single volunteer, a move that could cost us our entire support system and countless civilian lives."

Prowl nodded, despite his unease. He most emphatically didn't want his friend to go--he would rather send any other Intelligence agent than Jazz--but he and Optimus were right. One volunteer who already knew the risks and requirements was the best option. "Megatron will almost definitely move within fifteen groons. You have twelve. Get in, get what information you can and get back here."

"Yes, sir!" Jazz gave him a smile that was determination and confidence.

"And be careful. Your priority is coming home alive."

"Aw, take all the fun out of it." The visored mech gave the tactician a playful look that was strangely reassuring. The he turned to Optimus and saluted. "Twelve groons. I won't let you down, boss."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz stopped at the entrance to the service tunnel and looked at the mech waiting there with surprise. "Prowl?"

"Jazz." The tactician held out a small box to the visored mech. "Take these with you. I don't know that you'll be in a position where they'll be necessary, but they might help."

"Yeah?" The younger mech took the box and opened it. Carefully packed inside were two rations, an acid pellet pistol similar to the one Prowl carried, a grenade and an assortment of data chips. The chips were color coded and labeled in precise script, though the labels gave no clue to their actual purpose. Jazz hazarded a guess to the programming they held. "Viruses?"

"Some of the best written by our programming team." Prowl's face was grave. "They're designed to take down as many vital systems as quickly as possible, and they'll work on a mech as well as on a basic computer system."

Jazz heard the unspoken words in the tactician's statement: _They'll work on you, if it comes to that._ He grinned and tucked the box into his subspace. "This is some going away present, Prowl. You knew just what to get me."

The older mech smiled faintly at the levity. "I'm glad you appreciate it. You have no idea how difficult it was to put it together so quickly."

"I appreciate the effort. I didn't have time to put together much of a kit."

"I know." Prowl extended a hand to the Intellegence agent. "Be safe, Jazz. I need that information, but I need you more."

Jazz clasped his friend's hand, the pulled him into a quick hug. "I promise not to take any foolish risks, just the ones that matter."

"That's all I can ask."

"See you soon, Prowl." The visored mech released his friend and made his way into the service tunnel.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Darkmount was suspiciously quiet as Jazz made his way inside. The perimeter was guarded by a minimum of troops, mostly groundframes who looked younger than Prime, and the interior lights were dimmed in power conservation mode. There didn't even seem to be internal security patrols, which was at odds with every bit of intellegence they had gathered over the last few cycles. Darkmount should be crawling with Decepticons, not empty as the Iacon concert hall.

It worried him, and not just for his own safety.

The darkness eased his passage through the fortress and highlighted just how alone he really was. He had to duck away from only one passing mech before he reached the data storage room, and mech had been so damaged that Jazz didn't think he would have noticed Megatron himself walking past. If he had more time to be worried, the black and while mech would have been.

He would have been very, very worried.

Instead, Jazz focused on his immediate task. Prowl needed intel, and the visored mech would get as much of it as his empty storage chips could hold. Then, he would upload one of the viruses the tactician had given him and make his way back out before the remaining Decepticons realized he had ever been there.

He skimmed some of the data as he downloaded, looking for files directly related to the current troop gathering and movement. Not everything seemed relevant on the surface, but he knew that Prowl had a knack for finding hidden information. With practice, Jazz knew he would learn to be precise with what he gathered, but today he was just going to take anything he could get.

His face fell as he skimmed over the most recent troop movement logs. They contained orders for the assembled troops to move out of Darkmount toward Autobot held territories. Megatron was staging an assault, but it wasn't going to be where Prowl had predicted.

Jazz dug out one of the virus chips as the logs finished downloading. He wanted to bring back more data, but it was more important that Prowl get this data _right now_. 

He traded the storage chip for the virus chip as soon as the log was saved and activated the upload sequence. They would lose their shot at the remaining data in Darkmount's harddrives, but the Decepticons had left the facility so understaffed that it would be useless by the time anyone pinpointed the source of the virus. Then he turned and made his way back out of the base with the same, terrible ease he had gotten in with. 

Once he was past the guard perimeter, Jazz ran. Praxus didn't have time for sneaking around.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Prime!" Blaster, the comm tech currently on duty, burst into the war room unannounced. The gathered officers turned to glare disapprovingly, but the red mech ignored them. "Message from Agent Jazz on the black ops channel."

"How does Jazz even have access to that channel?!" Highbrow sputtered.

"Hardly relevant at this time," Prowl replied.

"Give us the message." Optimus said, overriding any other protests the Intellegence head could make.

"Yes, sir." Blaster took only a klik to queue up the recording and unscramble it. A moment later, Jazz's voice filled the room.

_"This is Agent Jazz to Autobot command and any Autobot or ally who can hear this message. Megatron is moving against Praxus. His forces are already on the march and will reach the boundaries of the city-state within two groons. I say again, Megatron is moving on Praxus and will be there within two groons._

_The Decepticons are carrying heavy weapons and incendaries. Megatron isn't planning a seige, this is a full out assault. Autobot command, come prepared for the worst. Any enforcers who can hear me, evac the civilians and get out of the city."_

Prowl felt himself go cold as Jazz's warning looped back to the beginning. He sank into his chair, shocked at the news. Praxus had always supported the Prime, but they were a city of dreamers and thinkers. Their support had always been social or for entertainment purposes, never military or financial.

And, though he had needed to get away from it for a while, Praxus was _home_.

"Prowl?" The tactician hadn't even realized he was whimpering until he stopped as he Prime wrapped strong hands around his shoulders. "Are you with me, my friend?"

"Why Praxus?" The black and white whispered.

"Because he wished to cause pain." Optimus voice was hard, clearly as angry as Prowl was shocked. "But he will regret the day he made this plan. Are you with me, Prowl?"

The young Prime's anger helped draw him out of his shocked stupor. The tactician nodded shakily. "I'm with you."

The red and blue mech nodded. "Blaster, sound the call to arms. All units gather at the gate, ready for combat. We roll out in ten joors."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The distance from Darkmount to Praxus was shorter than the distance to Iacon and Autobot headquarters, so that was the direction Jazz went. If they had received and decrypted his comm, the army would be moving out already and it would be easiest to meet them there. If not, then he could at least record the assault and begin search and rescue when the Decepticons left.

He ran, and hoped that his warning had been heard.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prowl focused on the orders Optimus was issuing, using them as a tool to keep himself moving. He had seen the footage of the Crystal City ruins and knew that Megatron would do the same to his home, and that knowledge filled him with sorrow and fear that would swamp him if he didn't use _something_ to occupy his processor. He knew he couldn't let the emotions take over, or he would never be able to protect his home and people.

"Prowl," the Prime said softly, after ordering the scouts forward, "This battle is likely to be brutal and fast. If you do not feel capable of directing it, tell me now. I will not think less of you."

"I believe that I can manage, sir." In truth, focusing on the fluid tactics and changing strategies of the battlefield felt like the only thing he could manage currently. Being able to do his job would keep his processor focused, no matter what Megatron's current target was. "Our forces will become spread out in the streets, however. It will be wise to have a second tactician in the command post to watch for situations I might otherwise miss."

"Who would you require?"

Prowl considered his options as he and Prime helped load the mobile cannons onto faster cargo carriers. He weighed his choices carefully, considering which of his junior tacticians he would rather have on the field to direct events in real time rather than who he would be most comfortable sharing the command post with. "Override."

Optimus paused, clearly surprised by the choice. It was no secret that there was no love lost between the two mechs. "Are you certain?"

"I am. I would prefer to have him in the command post and keep the rest of my team in the field."

"Very well. Issue the orders, Prowl." The red and blue mech turned and slammed the gate on the cargo carrier closed. "Autobots, roll out! Megatron must not take Praxus!"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz heard the Decepticons long before he ever saw them. Megatron's gravelly voice took over every public comm frequency, and a fair number of restricted service channels, threatening death and destruction to all Autobot sympathizers. He offered leniency to any mech who joined him, though Jazz knew that leniency was not the same thing as freedom, and painful deactivation to mechs who actively reaisted.

Jazz knew exactly how Megatron would label terrified, unarmed civilians.

He could hear the weapons fire and the bombs shortly after. Very faintly underneath, he could hear the shattering of crystal and the screams of the citizens. It reminded him of the day on the docks when his old life ended, and Jazz had to deactivate his audios before he found himself trapped in a flashback.

A few moments later, he crested a hill and wished he could deactivate his optics against the devestation the Decepticons were unleashing on the city. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Primus below," Optimus whispered as they approached Praxus.

The Decepticons were decimating the city as they watched. The Autobot army couldn't move fast enough to prevent the destruction, not while Megatron's Seekers dropped bombs onto the precision archetecture and his tank squadrons fired incendary rounds into the carefully cultivated crystal. As they moved closer, the Autobots watched entire buildings collapse and ornate gardens melt.

Megatron hadn't wanted to simply take Praxus. Megatron wanted to make an example of it.

Prowl felt his earlier sorrow well up again, coupled with blinding rage. Megatron had destroyed _his home_ , without cause or provocation, and was gloating about it over the comm channels. 

"I will kill him," the tactician vowed.

He burned the images of death and destruction into his memory as they approached. They would keep him going forward whenever he felt himself faltering or growing tired. Then he deactivated the code that enabled emotional processing.

No mech would die today because he couldn't control his rage.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz knew the Autobots were close when Megatron's communication broadcasts changed from threats and boasts to calls for regrouping and withdrawal. The Decepticon leader had clearly never meant to take Praxus, just to hit them where it would hurt most.

And hurt it did. The black and white mech looked out at the destruction and the bodies he could see from his hiding place and knew the Autobots--especially Prowl--would never be the same again.

He turned away from the carnage and back to the single young mech he had been able to save. The silver mech was clearly in shock, optics distant and nonsense words forming on his lips. He had stayed quiet when Jazz told him to, but he would clearly need an outlet soon.

"Come on, my mech. Help has finally arrived." Jazz helped the young mech to his feet and led him toward the dark alley that he had used to bring them to this hiding place. There would be fewer bodies in the alley, and therefore less chance for the silver mech to see someone he knew.

They had both already seen too much today.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ironhide took half their forces and chased after the retreating Decepticons with the intent to blast them all out of the sky. It was a futile effort, and Prowl said as much when they left, but the warriors needed to try.

If he was running on anything more than basic response programming and logic algorythms, Prowl might have gone with them.

Instead, he bowed to the logic of needing to aid those who could not aid themselves any longer. He set up a search and rescue plan while the medics set up treatment stations. He set the comm techs to the task of signaling the all clear and advising any surviving citizens of where to come for shelter and treatment. He arranged for the construction bots among them to build tempory shelters until permanent homes could be established for the survivors. 

And when everything was arranged, he stayed in the command post and controlled Roller directly, using the advanced sensor suite the Prime's drone carried to look for survivors. He manevered the drone through the ruins for groons, cataloguing the locations of bodies for later pick up and sending rescue teams to the coordinates of the living. 

He would have continued on indefinately, if not for the strong hand that clamped down on his shoulder. He looked at Jazz blankly, trying to find a logical reason for the Iaconian mech to be interrupting him.

"Come on, Prowl. Prime says you've been on duty as long as me and Ratchet's ordering both of us to take a break."

"It is not logical to stop when my continued searching could enable another Praxian to survive."

"What's not logical is you running yourself into the ground and taking three times as long to recover." Jazz moved his hand so that he could tug the Praxian away from his console. "You've been on you feet and logged into Roller's systems for fifteen groons according to the computer log. Before that you were organizing search and rescue for two groons and construction for another two. And we were both on duty for twelve groons before that. You have to take a break, mech."

"Jazz, I must--"

"No arguments. You are taking at least four groons off, with me, for fuel and recharge. Medics orders." The visored mech continued pulling the tactician's arm until Prowl relented and followed.

Jazz led them to a supply station where two members of the science team were handing out ration packs. They each took one and drank them quickly. Then the Iaconian mech led them through the maze of temporary shelters to a small structure set away from the main cluster.

"Only bots that know where we are are Prime, Sunstreaker who's our guard while we rest, and Ratchet." Jazz closed the door. "No one is going to bother us here, so you can take down whatever blocks you have on your emotional subroutines and let it out."

Prowl hesitated before agreeing. He knew he wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions that would occur when he reactivated the emotional subroutines, but logically he knew he never could could be. Nothing in his life had prepared him for a disaster of this magnitude.

If given a choice, he might simply leave them disabled forever.

"Prowl, you have to let it out. Even if you aren't feeling it now, this is going to make you crazy if you don't." The intellegence agent stepped close and rested his hands on the tactician's arms. "There's nobody here but me. Just let go."

He resisted for another long moment, but he knew Jazz was right. Not letting himself feel his grief and anger was its own kind of madness--one that his hyper-focus on search and rescue was highlighting. He could not save them all, and it was illogical to try.

Slowly, he reactivated his emotional subroutines and collapsed into Jazz's embrace with a wail.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When Prowl woke, he was curled up against Jazz in the tiny berth situated in the shelter. He felt wrung out, as if he had been squeezed and twisted until none of his emotions remained inside except for a hollow sense of loss. He didn’t even have the ability to care that they had recharged long past the four groon mark Jazz had given him and that they should get back on duty as quickly as possible.

The tactician wanted nothing more than to close his optic shutters and go back into recharge.

“Prowl? How you doing?” Jazz asked softly.

Prowl supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that his friend had been waiting for him to wake. “I just want to recharge. How do you keep going?”

“It’s not as hard as it used to be, but I keep going because I know that’s what my friends and my family would have wanted for me.” The visored mech hugged him more tightly. “Last thing they would have wanted was for me to have been for me to stop living because they were gone.”

Prowl tried to draw what strength he could from Jazz, but it didn’t seem to be enough to even make himself sit up. “That’s not enough.”

“Then you find your anger and use that. I was ready to destroy the entire Decepticon army after they raided the docks, and I can’t believe you felt any differently.” The younger mech shifted so that he could hold the elder more comfortably. “And remember that you’re not alone right now. You’ve got me and Optimus. And those Twin terrors, though Primus only knows why they like you so much.”

“We have history.” Prowl let himself be held for a bit longer. They would be prompted back to duty soon enough. “And you shouldn’t disrespect your superior officers like that.”

“There’s my Prowl.” Jazz smiled, though it was strained by current events. “Tell me about this history you three have. We got some time before Prime wants us back in the field.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Part 3: Sunlight

“How are they doing?”

“As well as can be expected, i believe.” Prowl gave Jazz a small smile. “It was a good suggestion to have the Praxus survivors form a support group for the Crystal Towers survivors.”

“It was your cousin’s idea, actually. Smokescreen is brilliant with people.” Jazz returned the smile. “I just put the idea into the right processors.”

“It was a good one, no matter the source. Are you on your way there now?”

“Yeah. Prime and i thought the survivors of the Iacon Dock assault could be just as supportive.”

“I had heard Optimus was participating as well. I hope he gets as much out of it as the others have.” The tactician looked down at the datapad in his hand and frowned. “My apologies, Jazz. The tactics division is having a meeting i cannot miss. Give my regards to the others, please.”

“It’s all right. There’s always someone in the meeting hall if you want to come later.” The intelligence agent patted his friend on the shoulder and turned toward a side hall. “Oh! Highbrow wants to know if you’ve given any thought to transferring any of your mechs to Intel for that special division he wants to branch off.”

“It’s on the agenda for today’s meeting. I will contact him with details.” Prowl gave the other black and white mech a wave. “I will be in the commissary as planned later.”

“See you for rations, then.” Jazz waved back and went on his way to the support group meeting.

The tactician went on to his meeting as well, though his usual confident posture fell once his friend was gone. He was grateful that the support group was helping the others, especially Smokescreen and Jazz, but he didn’t know how to tell the younger mech just how little he felt welcome at those meetings so that he would stop asking him to come.

He sat in the room with them, and all he could think about was the way he had abandoned them all after Resolute’s fall from power.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prowl glanced up when his door slid open and frowned at the silver and grey Praxian standing just outside his office. He didn’t recognize the mech as anyoen he knew, and thought he could have been the young mech Jazz had rescued on the day of the assault.

“Can i help you?”

“I’m sorry, Commander Prowl, sir.” The young mech started to turn away. “You’re busy. i’ll go.”

“I did not say i was busy. I asked how i could help you.”

“Sorry.” The younger mech stepped inside and let the door close. “You just looked unhappy when i came in, so i thought i was disturbing you.”

“I was merely perplexed as to why a bot i do not know was entering my office.” PRowl saved the battle plan he was notating and leaned back in his chair. “So, why are you in my office?”

“Oh, right! Sorry. Sometimes I babble or get distracted and forget what i was doing.” The silver mech smiled shyly. “I’m Bluestreak. I used to be an anti-riot enforcer in Praxus, in the East District. I’m really good with a rifles and i had just gotten my sniper certification before the assault.”

Prowl had to admit that Bluestreak was correct in his assement of his communication abilities. “And?” 

“And I really want to join the Autobots, but I already know i’m a riflemech and Smokescreen and Jazz said they thought maybe you could help pull strings to get me in without having to go through recruit assessments.”

“All Autobot recruits are required to go through basic training, unless their previous experiences were in formal military settings.”

“That’s what Jazz said, too. I just hoped maybe that it would be like with Smokescreen, where he went right into basic training knowing he would be in tactics afterward.” Bluestreak's wings dipped down slightly. "If that's not possible, I understand. I just... hoped."

Prowl sighed. It was just like his cousin to offer favors without even asking first. "It is not impossible. You said you served in the East District. Did you train under Steelspark?"

"I did!" Bluestreak perked back up. "I graduated in the last class he taught before he retired, with top marks in sharpshooting."

"Then I can feel confident in reccomending your skills to our weapons master." The head tactician put his data pad and computer terminal into sleep mode and stood up. "Follow me. I will introduce you to Ironhide."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Did you send Bluestreak to me on purpose?" Prowl asked as Jazz sat down at their usual table.

"Bluestreak? No, why?" Jazz looked puzzled as he slid the tactician's ration over to him.

"He mentioned you and Smokescreen when he came by my office."

"Wasn't me. Maybe Smokescreen thought he'd feel comfortable with you, since you're both enforcers." The intellenge agent shrugged. "Did you have a nice talk?"

"Bluestreak is quite engaging, for all that he rambles. Not quite your equal for snappy banter, though."

"Banter like mine takes work, mech." Jazz grinned. "I'm sure Ironhide'll teach him."

"I thought you didn't send him."

"I didn't. But that doesn't mean I don't know what happened."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"I've got you, Jazz." Prowl held his friend close and clamped his damaged energon lines closed with one hand. "Just hold on. I've got you."

"I know, Prowl. Besides, I'd just come back and haunt you if you let me go." The intellegence agent chuckled weakly and wrapped his hand over the tactician's. "Ratchet's inbound, right?"

"Not immediately. He's pinned down by a squadron of Seekers. We're on our own."

"Then I hope you know some good first aid, because I'm bleeding coolant out along with all this energon."

"Get out your first aid kit then." Prowl did his best to keep his voice even. "I've got you."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz was still on light duty and visibly favoring the damage to his abdominal cavity when Prowl made his way into the meeting hall. The tactician smiled softly as he watched his friend play with the few sparklings who had been saved from the ruins.

"Commissioner Prowl, you came!" The tactician turned at the familiar voice and his smile fell away in surprise as he looked at Streetstar. "Sorry, sir. I know it's Commander now."

"It's all right." Prowl blinked to clear his confusion. "I didn't realize you had made it out."

"It was all Smokescreen's doing, sir. You'd have been proud at how he took charge after the new commissioner ignored Jazz's warning." The white mech beamed. "He saved sixty two enforcers and twenty civilians."

"Would have been more, if I'd been you," Smokescreen added, coming up behind his cousin. 

"What matters is that you saved them." Prowl turned and pulled the blue and yellow mech into a hug. "Your parents would have been as proud as I am."

"Thanks, Prowl." Smokescreen smiled at the praise.

"Come on, sir," Streetsar said. "You don't want to miss any of Nectar's sweets, and the littles eat them fast."

Prowl let his cousin and his former subordinate drag him toward the refreshment table. He kept an optic on Jazz while he indulged in the snacks, making sure the intellegence mech didn't overstarin himself. Several of the other survivors from his precinct broke away from their social groups to speak with him, thanking him for his part in the search and rescue or congratulating him on giving Smokescreen the skills to take command when the late commissioner failed them.

He felt confused by the attention at first--surely these were not the same mech's who had criticized him so loudly for pressing charges against the Prime's bodyguard, and later against the Prime himself. Then, slowly, he warmed to it as he realized that they had moved past the turmoil of that time and remembered the good mech he had always tried to be.

As the gathered Praxians--and today the support group was almost all Praxian enforcers--took their seats, Jazz moved to his side. His friend put one arm around him and hugged him. "You okay?"

"Better than okay," Prowl replied, returning the hug. "I hadn't realized how much I missed them."

"And they missed you, too." The visored mech squeezed him a second time before stepping away. He grinned as he made his way to his own seat and Prowl followed, curious about what his friend found so entertaining.

"What is so amusing?"

"I just realized that Smokescreen bet me three cubes of Seeker grade that you wouldn't come today."

For a moment, Prowl was indignant. Then he chuckled softly. It was perfectly like Smokescreen to bet on something so illogical, and for Jazz to take a bet on a sure thing. "Smokescreen is gambling again? I would predict that we'll be all right then."


End file.
